Family
by MissMelysse
Summary: CRUSHverse, complete in 4 parts. A month after the events of Generations, Captain Picard and his chosen family gather to bury Robert and Rene Picard, and Data and Zoe experience different kinds of personal growth. Data/Zoe romance but also Picard/Zoe friendship.
1. Family - Part I

_**Continuity Note:**_ _This story takes place about a month after the events of Star Trek: Generations. It's roughly two years after chapter 14 ("Transition – Part I") of_ _Crush III: Sostenuto_ _._

* * *

 **Stardate 48740.86**

 **(Tuesday, 28 September 2371, 10:00 AM, local time)**

 **Chapelle Sainte-Anne, LaBarre, France**

The day is unusually gray and rainy for early autumn in France, but somehow, given the occasion, it seems appropriate. The church – Chapelle Sainte-Anne - is an old, stone, building. There's a metal plate in the floor of the narthex with a year, but I only manage to read the first two digits – 16. Still, the weight of the ages is there in the gray walls and the deep red carpets layered over the cold stone floor. Though there are modern touches – temperature control, light control – and there are signs of continuous restoration, there is also a sense of peace.

I peek into the nave, and see the statues representing the Stations of the Cross. My family is Episcopalian, and the Stations in the church in the coastal arts colony on Centaurus which is my hometown, are bas relief plaques affixed to walls and pillars along the outer aisles.

When the service starts, Data and I are seated in the second pew, behind the Captain and Dr. Crusher, his sister-in-law Marie and some of her family. Will Riker and Deanna Troi are next to us, with the commander on the aisle, and Deanna next to me. Geordi, Guinan, Worf, and Wesley Crusher fill out our row. My own family is directly behind us. My stepfather, Edouard Benoit, was the captain's boyhood friend, and my stepbrothers were schoolmates of the captain's nephew, Rene.

The ceremony is neither too long nor too short. The priest is of an age with the captain and delivers his sermon in a mix of French and Federation Standard. I speak both, but Data had reminded me to wear a comm-badge – something I typically avoid when not aboard-ship, so I hear the actual words _and_ the translation. Rather than the church choir or deacons providing music and readings, members of the family and community share brief anecdotes, and the school orchestra, in which Rene had played the bassoon, accompanies the hymns we sing.

The captain's voice quivers during the singing.

The service is a full mass, and when it comes time for communion, Data stands aside so when I leave our pew and receive the sacraments, Geordi can follow me to do the same. Ahead, I notice the captain. I'd known that the Picard's were originally a Catholic family, but I hadn't realized that the that Captain Picard still kept his faith.

Anyway, it wasn't the time or place to ask. We weren't in France to engage in philosophical discussions; we were here to support the captain – our friend – as he buried his family.

 **(=A=)**

In a break from modern tradition, Robert and Rene Picard will be buried rather than cremated, interred in the churchyard cemetery where generations of previous Picards also rest. My stepbrothers - fifteen-year-old Remy who was one of Rene's best friends, and eighteen-year-old Michel – are among the pall-bearers for the smaller of the two coffins.

As we follow the family out of the sanctuary and into the cool, damp, air, I glimpse tears on the Captain's cheeks, and I see him clutch Beverly's hand, as if she is his lifeline on this day. I can't really blame him, because I've been doing the same – holding Data's hand so tightly that if he weren't a mostly impervious android – the diamond in my engagement ring would have cut his hand.

The graveside ceremony is solemn, of course, but the sense of closure is strong. I'm not sure you get the same finality with cremations or burials at sea or among the stars.

We linger in the churchyard. Many people are leaving directly from the church – friends of the captain who shuttled or beamed in from starships or bases. They take their leave of him, and the crowd thins. Data and I are standing with Geordi, Will, and Deanna – Worf left almost immediately – but the latter two must return to their temporary billet. The crash of the _Enterprise-D_ has separated this crew, but they are hopeful that a reunion - a more pleasant and permanent one – will be forthcoming.

The four officers get sidetracked into a conversation about their careers, and I step away, allowing them to have the moment. The captain is momentarily alone, and I approach him, not sure what to say, or if I should speak at all.

"Zoe. Thank you for coming today. I trust you haven't missed too many classes?"

My junior year at Yale began a week after the crash. As I'd been with Data on the Enterprise at the time, I'd missed the first week of school, but my advisor and I had worked it out with my professors. This funeral, not quite a month later, was taking me away for another few days, but no one would object to my absence.

Data insisted you'd understand if I couldn't make it, but there was no way I wouldn't have come. My brothers go to school with Rene."We both know I'm referring to my stepbrothers, part of the family Mom and I acquired when she remarried three years ago.

" _Went_ to school with…" The older man's voice shakes when he says it.

I accept the correction with a brief dip of my head. "I've seen Rene a few times over the last three years. He often joined the boys when they came to visit. Michel is old enough to interact with adults, but it was easier for Remy to have a friend." I glance across the churchyard and notice that Data is no longer surrounded by his friends but has joined my family. They're only a few meters away and I know my fiancé can hear my conversation. "He was such a bright, engaging boy, and so thirsty for stories about you. I told him about our boxing lessons." I chuckle softly at the memory. "He made me show him your techniques."

"I meant to have him visit the ship, but the timing never worked out. And now... It's too soon. Too damned soon. _Merde_!" And now the trace of tears I'd seen before is a waterfall.

It jars me, seeing this strong man, this _icon_ , break down in tears. In that moment, he's no longer my partner's commanding officer. He's just the gentle friend who sends me books and gave me his sextant, and my response is automatic: I wrap my arms around him.

Picard returns the embrace, and I realize that we're the same height, at least while I'm wearing heels, and suddenly the fragile curtain that's always hung between us is gone. He's not THE CAPTAIN, he's not even Captain Picard; he's just Jean-Luc. Not that I would dare use his name.

Footsteps approach - Data coming to check on me - and we move apart, but there's a heartbeat when our eyes meet, and a recognition passes between us. Kinship. _Family_.

Data slips his hand into mine, even as he addresses Picard. "Sir, Commander Riker and Counselor Troi had to return to San Francisco. They asked that I make their apologies."

With the tug of his uniform jacket, Jean-Luc becomes Captain Picard once more. "Thank you, Data. I must see to Marie. I'll see you both at the house?" Beverly has a comforting arm wrapped around Robert Picard's widow.

"Yes, sir." I let Data speak for both of us. My own voice is temporarily gone. I stay silent as the captain walks across the damp ground to where Beverly has a comforting arm wrapped around Robert Picard's widow. I see him take his sister-in-law gently by the arm and lead her from the grave of her husband and son. When I'm still silent after several minutes, Data asks, "Are you alright, Zoe?"

"Not yet," I tell him. "But I will be." I take a breath. Then another. "We should go. See if the caterers need help." Ed had insisted that as friends of the family, _our_ family should relieve Marie of hostess duties on this day.

"Your parents left a few minutes ago," Data tells me.

"How are the boys holding up?"

"They are grieving, but they are 'handling things' well, I believe."

I nod. Tears are blinding me as he guides me to our flitter.

* * *

 **NOTES:** Forgive me, please, for jumping ahead of the timeline in this story. Years ago, I read an incomplete Picard/Troi (!) fic that suggested Jean-Luc Picard was Catholic, and the idea stuck with me, even though the rest of the story did not. I don't even know who wrote it. Exactly one month ago, just eight months after we lost my mother-in-law, my father-in-law died. He was giant bear of a man, and when you eventually meet my version of Pran Tainer, you'll glimpse some of him in my interpretation, but there's a touch of him in my version of Picard as well. Chapelle Sainte-Anne is a real church in LaBarre, France, but I have no idea how old it really is.


	2. Family - Part II

**Stardate 48741.61**

 **(Tuesday, 28 September 2371, 4:30 PM local time)**

 **Chateau Picard, LaBarre, France**

The damp, gray morning has melted into a blustery afternoon, which is threatening to become a truly stormy night. Data and I, my mother and stepfather and his sons, and the Crushers, are the last remaining guests to linger in the Picard home.

The last of the others to leave was Alynna Nechayev, who paused to corner me for a hug and the teasing query, "When exactly are you and Data getting married? Haven't you been engaged for about a decade now?"

In truth, it's been a little under two years, and the term of our engagement is intentionally long. Having the question settled gave both of us a new security, but our original date had to be rescheduled because of a mission I'm still hazy about, and we subsequently decided to wait until I was finished with another school year, thus giving us more flexibility. The admiral knows all this, of course, because we've kept in touch, our personal friendship deepening in the process.

"May twenty-seventh," I tell her. "Could you arrange for the Federation to be in a state of relative peace?"

"I'll do my best," she promises, and from this formidable woman, I almost believe it's possible. "Take care, Zoe. Come to brunch the next time you're in San Francisco visiting your mother."

"I'll do that."

She goes to say goodbye to Captain Picard, and I wander into the kitchen.

 **(=A=)**

The caterers who set up the reception after the funeral and interment have gone, though there are enough leftover finger sandwiches, salads, and little cakes to keep us all well-fed for a week. The room is dim - only the lights above the counter are on. I consider snagging one of the miniature cream puffs, but I hear a noise, and in searching for its source, I notice Remy sitting on the tile floor with his back against the commercial-sized refrigerator.

"This seat taken?" I ask him, sliding down to join him before he can answer. My skirt will be completely ruined, but I don't mind. "Is this the first funeral you've been to?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah." His voice breaks on the word, and I'm not certain if it's grief or his voice changing – probably a bit of both.

"It's kind of intense, huh?"

"Kind of a lot," he says. "Dad says we can stay out of school for the rest of the week, but I'm not sure if I want to. But… Rene was my lab partner in biology. And we always had lunch together."

"You could always go if you feel up to it and come home if it's too much. If your mom, or my mom, or Ed can't come get you, you can call me, and I'll come, or Data will." I think a moment, and then offer: "You have an open campus, right? Would you like Data and me to come take you to lunch?"

"You'd do that?"

"What are sisters for?" I ask him. "We'd love to."

"Does Michel have to come?"

"No. Tomorrow is just for you, and Data and I will do something else with Michel while we're here."

He seems okay with that arrangement, but I can tell there's something else bothering him. I stay quiet, letting the hum of the refrigerator fill the silence between us until he's ready to speak.

"Zoe?" his voice is tentative, more child than young man.

"Remy?"

"What if I cry?"

I look at him, and realize his eyes are red, but his young face is free of tear stains. " _Have_ you cried?" I ask.

"When… when we first found out, I did. But not today… and not…"

"Not at school?"

"Yeah."

"It's totally okay if you cry, Remy. Your friend died, and that's sad, and when you cry you're acknowledging that he was important to you, and that you miss him. Did you see his uncle today? Captain Picard's face was covered in tear streaks, and he wasn't ashamed."

"Kids can be mean."

"Yeah, they can. But they lost a friend, too. I saw lots of kids in your school uniform in the church today. And a lot of them were crying." I am trying to find the right words, the kinds of words Deanna would say – has said – in similar situations. "It doesn't make you weak if you cry, Remy. And it doesn't make you stronger or tougher if you don't. There's no right or wrong way to grieve."

"Promise?" he asks.

"Promise," I assure him.

"Wise words." The voice belongs to the captain. "Forgive me for interrupting."

Remy scrambles to his feet, and then pauses, and extends a hand toward me. I don't need help, but I accept the gesture, and put my hand in his. (His palm is clammy, I notice, but I refrain from wiping my hands on my skirt.) "Thank you," I tell him. To the captain, I say, "You didn't interrupt, sir. It's your kitchen."

"Fair point." His voice is scratchy, but a trace of his usual humor is evident. "I came in search of tea and chocolate," he confesses. "I expect you did the same?"

"Cream puffs," I confess.

"Why don't you fill a tray with sandwiches, Remy, and let Zoe take a tray of dessert back out to the living room. I suspect we're all ready for a second round. I'll start tea and coffee and join you."

Wordlessly, we accede to his request, but before we pick up our trays to leave, he calls my stepbrother's name. The boy turns toward the man, and they, too share a moment of recognition. Picard extends his hand, and Remy meets it. Their handshake is brief, but the moment isn't over.

"I'm so grateful for your participation today, Remy," the captain says. "Losing a friend is never easy and learning to handle grief is something you shouldn't have to do so young. I'm glad my nephew counted you among his friends."

I can tell Remy isn't sure how to answer when he looks at me. I mouth the words 'thank you,' and he flashes me a quick smile. "Thank you, sir," he says. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Together, we leave the kitchen, but after I set my tray down, I cross the room to Beverly and touch her shoulder. She understands what I mean without my having to voice it, excuses herself from her chat with Wesley and Michel, and makes her way to the kitchen.

 **(=A=)**

Coffee, tea, and snacks seem to be what we all need. The boys (including Wesley) make the biggest dent in the food – always a sign that they're sad but not in dire straits – and the rest of us nibble at the desserts. Data even tastes one of my treasured cream puffs.

Marie is the next to leave, which feels weird, because it's her house – the house where she spent her married life and raised her son – even if it's the _Picard family_ that holds the deed. "Are you sure you have to go?" I ask her, concerned that we're driving her out.

"I'm too sad to be here, right now. The damage from the fire has been repaired, but the damage to my soul… it's still fresh. I'm going to my sister in Paris for a while." She pauses, "Rene talked a lot about you. I think he wanted you to be his sister, too."

"He was a very special person," I tell her. "I always enjoyed it when he visited with Remy, especially when the two of them came to hang out with me at Yale." My sophomore year, the boys had come for the weekend of the traditional Harvard vs. Yale football game.

"His first tailgate party," Marie said, smiling through her tears. "He confessed that he and Remy ate too many hot dogs."

"They paid for it the next day," I reveal. "All part of the experience. But they were in good hands. My roommate was pre-med."

She pulls me into a perfume-scented embrace and pats me on the back. "Thank you for being here. I'm glad Jean-Luc has his adopted family with him."

I make a mental note to send her a letter in a few days.

* * *

 **NOTES:** I began this story on my phone right before bed last night, during a conversation with **Selena.t** , thinking it would be a quick one-shot. Instead it's three parts. And an epilogue. Well, I never was good at brevity. I'll explain the timeline in more detail in the notes for the final chapter, but this story references characters introduced in chapter 4 of _UNACCOMPANIED: A Suite for Actress & Android_. As for how a funeral can be a month after the actual death? Stasis, baby. Stasis.


	3. Family - Part III

**Stardate 48742.14**

 **(Tuesday, 28 September 2371, 9:13 PM, local time)**

 **Chateau Picard, LaBarre, France**

An arc of lightning outside the windows brightens the softly lit living room where we are all keeping a sort of quiet vigil with Captain Picard, and it startles my mother from where she's fallen into a light sleep on one of the big, deep couches.

"What time is it?" she asks.

"A little after nine," Data and I answer her at the same time.

Mom sits up and stretches, then catches Ed's eye. "We should go. The boys have school tomorrow."

Ed glances over at his sons, and then back at my mother. "Do you think they'll be up to it?"

"Remy said he wanted to try," I inform him. "I told him he could always leave if it was too much." I touch Data's shoulder. "I also promised we'd take him to lunch tomorrow, whether he wants to go back for afternoon classes, or not."

I hadn't bothered to check with my partner before committing us, but I knew he wouldn't object, and he doesn't disappoint me. "I have often observed that a return to routine after a traumatic event can be beneficial, and I am certain lunch will be enjoyable."

"I should have asked you first," I tell him softly. "He needed something to look forward to."

"It is fine," Data tells me, leaning close to nuzzle my hair. "You are a good sister to them, and I am glad to participate."

"Made of awesome, wrapped in gold," I tease quietly. Then I realize that my parents are standing up, and ushering the boys toward the door, and I leave Data's solid warmth and move to hug them, then step aside so he can say goodbye as well.

"Zoe, are you sure you're okay staying here?" my mother asks. But we're staying because the captain requested it. I suspect Data's calm rationality is something of a balm after so much emotion, but Marie wasn't wrong when she referred to Beverly and Data as 'Jean-Luc's adopted family.' _And me,_ I think. _She meant that to include me._ Aloud, I assure her, "We'll be fine. There's this clawfoot tub in our bathroom and I'm looking forward to using it." I'm only partly kidding.

I exchange a few words with Michel – we make plans to do something on Thursday – and Remy hesitates, then asks me for a hug. I'm a little surprised, but I go with it. He's family.

I know that Ed and the captain spent much of the evening in conversation. I see them exchange an embrace as well and note that as my mother leaves she murmurs something to Beverly, and kisses Picard on the cheek.

"I should go, too," Wesley says. "I don't go to a cushy university that lets students skip classes whenever they want." He's teasing me with that remark, but there's something bitter underneath it.

"I'll still have notes to catch up on when I get back," I say. "Comm me, your next free weekend? We'll hang out." _Translation: you'll tell_ me _what you don't want your mother or Captain Picard to know._

"Sure," he says, and I'm not sure if he means it or he's blowing me off. No matter; I'll comm _him_.

And then it's just the four of us, and I wonder if I should offer to clean up and let the Starfleet types bond.

Beverly beats me to it. "Data, would you mind helping me clear away the dishes?"

"Do you need my help?" I ask, mostly to be polite.

"No, Zoe. You've done enough today," the doctor is quick to tell me. I suspect she really wants to discuss The State of the Captain with Data, but if it means I don't have to put on the shoes I'd kicked off three hours before, I'm good with it.

 **(=A=)**

There's something slightly awkward about being alone with the captain in the living room of his familial home. Data and I had arrived two days prior, but there'd always been other people – Marie, Wes, a few other stray family members – this was different.

"Stop trembling, Zoe, I'm not going to bite you." It's uttered in his teasing voice, but he still sounds scratchy. Probably that's not going to change any time soon.

"I wasn't _trembling_ ," I insist. "Just trying unsuccessfully to be invisible."

"Hmph." His snort combines amusement and mild irritation. "I suppose this is a new dynamic for us. No boxing ring, no tea paraphernalia." His steel-gray eyes regard me. "Join me at the game table," he says, gesturing to a table in the corner of the room.

I notice that there's a _Tög_ set waiting for someone to play, and I think it's somehow appropriate that this private man has continued to play a game of building walls. A game I'd introduced him to. "You brought a set here?"

"It was a gift for my brother and nephew to share, last Christmas. Rene challenged me to a match on my next visit." Softly he adds, "We never got to play. Do me the honor, young woman, of distracting me for a while?"

"Of course." I took the seat across from him, and he indicated for me to take the white pieces. The opening move of the game involves placing one of the opposing player's pieces, so I did that.

"You were very good with Remy earlier," he observed as he countered my move by placing one of _my_ pieces. "He looks up to you."

"You think?" I ask. "I think it's more than I'm closer to his age, so I'm more accessible. I'm a friend, not an authority figure."

"You're his sister," Picard corrects.

"I try to be. I'm not sure… I'm never sure if I'm overstepping or not involved enough."

"I wouldn't over-analyze it, Zoe. You have good instincts; follow them. It's your turn."

I moved another piece onto the board. Years of playing this game with Data had improved my strategy a lot since the first – and only – time I'd ever played against the captain. That amount of practice had also given me the ability to carry on a conversation. "May I ask you something, sir?"

"I'm not 'sir' when we're here, Zoe. A captain without a ship is…"

"… still a captain," I finish for him, with a bit of challenge on my voice. "What else am I supposed to call you?"

"You could use my name."

I freeze. I don't want to ruin the moment, but I also know how I have to answer. "Thank you," I say. "But I don't think I can. Not yet." I think about it for a moment. "Maybe when I'm thirty."

He seems vaguely amused by this. "I'll hold you to that. But, you had a question."

"More an observation. I didn't know you were Catholic. I mean… I know you attend the Christmas Eve services on the _Enterprise,_ but lots of people do that out of habit, or a need for community and ritual."

I expect him to retreat into his customary reserve, but he doesn't. He moves his piece, and asks, "Are you familiar with the expression 'there are no atheists in foxholes?'" I nod, and he continues, "There are no atheists on starships, either."

"None?"

"None. You might not recognize every form of faith or spirituality people observe, but everyone believes in something. Commander Worf, for example, believes that if he dies with honor, his soul will enter the Klingon afterlife known as Sto'Vo'Kor. Deanna follows Betazoid practices more than people realize. Beverly, as I think you saw, also received communion today."

"And Geordi did, as well."

"Indeed."

"You forgot someone."

"Did I? Not everyone is comfortable with public expression of their beliefs. If you are wondering about Will, you can ask him, but for all his jocularity and gregariousness, there are parts of himself he keeps very private."

"Actually," I say, "I meant Data."

"Ah." For half a second, I wonder if Data's non-verbal noise is a habit he picked up from this man. "Allow me?" I nod, and Picard reaches across the board to turn my left hand so that my palm is on the table. My ring, woven strands of gold with a diamond nestled among them, catches the light of the fire I don't remember anyone starting. "Data's view on religion is one you must ask him yourself, especially since you've got a wedding to plan. But when it comes to faith, Zoe, the ring you wear speaks volumes."

"It's a conversation that's long overdue," I admit. I don't reveal that Data mentioned faith when he officially proposed. As the captain just reminded me, some things are truly personal.

"Funerals tend to bring out the inner philosophers in all of us," Captain Picard observes. He taps my hand. "Place your last piece, Zoe; I'm aware you'll take the game."

I set my piece in the final square on the board, and my wall is now complete. He's right: I've won the game. But I feel like I've won something else as well. Not respect, I don't think. Acceptance, maybe. I'm not quite in the inner circle, but if there's an anteroom to a person's sanctum sanctorum, I think I've been invited to hang out in Captain Picard's.

"Thank you for the game," I say. I don't add 'sir' to the end of it, but I don't use his name, either. I see a small smile flit across his face as we share the job of putting the pieces in their bag.

"We'll play again before Data returns you to Connecticut," he says. "Best of three."

"Count on it," I said. I leave the table only to find that Data and Beverly have settled onto opposing couches and are each absorbed – or pretending to be absorbed – in their padds.

"Are you ready to retire for the evening?" Data asks as I move to stand in front of him, casting a shadow over the device in his hands.

I tell him that I am, and we bid the captain and Beverly goodnight, and head upstairs were I _do_ make use of the antique, claw foot bathtub.

* * *

 **NOTES:** "Sanctum sanctorum" is typically translated as "holy of holies" and originally referred to the most sacred inner chamber of a Jewish temple or tabernacle. It's used here as a play on the concept of an inner sanctum, as well. _Tög_ was introduced in chapter 12 ("The Stormy Present") of _Crush III: Sostenuto._ It's based on the game _Tak_ that Patrick Rothfuss invented in his _Kingkiller Chronicles._


	4. Epilogue

**Stardate 48754.56**

 **(Sunday, 3 October 2371, 10:00 AM local time)**

 **Chapelle Sainte-Anne, LaBarre, France**

The old stone church is not as full as it was five days before, but the congregation includes many of the same faces. The Picards have been part of this community, in general, and this church, specifically, for centuries. The people here may not socialize much with the surviving family, but they still see the captain and his family – by blood, by marriage, and by choice – as 'their' people.

And Starfleet isn't the only unit known for protecting their own.

The ceremony this morning, is not a funeral mass, and the weather seems to understand that, because while the morning air is crisp, the sun is bright in a cloudless sky.

Once again, Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher share the front pew with Marie Picard and her sister, but the end of the pew is occupied by myself and Data. Once again, I am a few places behind the captain as we proceed toward the nave to receive communion. Once again, after mass, we adjourn to the cemetery in the churchyard, but this time, we are there to watch the placing of the headstones for Robert and Rene Picard.

It's a short procedure. The parish priest speaks a few words and says a prayer, and we observe a moment of silence.

And then it is done.

And so is our time in France, at least, it is for Data and me.

The night before, we celebrated the third anniversary of Mom and Ed's marriage, the six of us (the boys had returned to their mother's care on Friday). We'd gone to a local restaurant, eaten amazing food, drunk far too much wine, and laughed a lot.

Sure, the laughter had been punctuated by more somber moments, but that's how family behaved: you mourn together, you celebrate together, and it doesn't matter who is technically related to whom.

My mother pulls me into a fierce hug. "Come for a visit soon," she says. "I know you and Data will be with us for Thanksgiving but come for a mother-daughter weekend when you can."

"I will," I promise. "I want to."

I hug Ed, as well, and he kisses my forehead. "Thank you for being such a good sister to my boys," he says. "I love you, Zoe."

I laugh into his overcoat and catch the combined scents of peppermint and pipe tobacco. "I love you, too," I tell him, and it's not just words. My stepfather is one of _my_ people now.

Data wraps his arms around me from behind and we watch their flitter take off. They'll be back in San Francisco in less than two hours. "Are you ready to go home?" my fiancé asks me, referring, not to the quarters we once occupied on the _Enterprise_ , or the jungle hideaway on Terlina III, or even the dorms at Yale, but the condo in New Haven we bought in the summer between my freshman and sophomore years at school.

It was meant to be a refuge for me when I couldn't take dorm life, as well as a place we could stay when Data came to Earth to visit me, but now it was more. Now it was the first home we decorated together and would live in every day until he was reassigned.

"I am," I say. "I'm even ready to be back in class."

"Then let us make our farewells." Data releases his hold on me, and we walk back to the grave site. He raises his voice to address his colleagues. "Captain, Doctor, Zoe and I must return to Connecticut." He glances at me and then offers the slightest of smiles. "My fiancée has school tomorrow."

We all laugh, even though his joke isn't that funny. Data gets a full-arm handshake from Captain Picard followed by a clap on the shoulder, and then Beverly pulls him into a hug. "It meant so much to Jean-Luc for you to be here all week," she tells him. "Thank you."

He steps away, and the doctor hugs me as well. (I don't remember a week with so much hugging in my entire life, but I don't object, I just return the gesture.) "Take care of Data," she tells me. "And let him take care of you, hmm?"

I chuckle softly. "Take your own advice, doctor…"

And then I turn to the captain, and I can tell he has no words, which is fine, except that I don't either. Finally, he just says, "Zoe…" and my name on his lips is weighted with more emotion than I'm accustomed to seeing from him, even after the last week. We don't embrace, but he lifts my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles, and I step closer to kiss him on the cheek. His beard repressor must not be working terribly well, because his whiskers are scratchy.

We move away from each other, but before I can turn around and join Data, he smiles softly. "Perhaps when you're twenty-five."

It takes it a moment to sink in, and then I laugh.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 48756.10**

 **(Sunday, 3 October 2371, 11:30 PM local time)**

 **New Haven, Connecticut**

Freshly bathed and wearing one of Data's black uniform tees, I'm reading in bed when my partner enters our room carrying a mug of mint tea, which he places on my nightstand. "Be careful," he warns, "it is very hot."

"You're very thoughtful. And I'm not sure I deserve it."

"I do not understand," he says, but I think he _does_ understand and wants me to explain.

"The day the captain learned about his brother and nephew… the day of Worf's promotion ceremony… after you pushed Doctor Crusher into the water… you wanted to install the emotion chip, and for once you didn't just go and do something, you asked me, and you listened when I asked you not to."

"In retrospect, it was a wise decision. I am not sure I could have performed adequately during our mission if I had also been attempting to assimilate the contents of the chip." He pauses, and I use the time to reach for the tea he'd brought and take a cautious sip. Cool enough to drink, good. "However, I confess that I found myself wishing for it many times during the past week."

"Wishing for it? Why?"

"I am not certain that I provided adequate support."

"I've never found your support to be lacking," I tell him. "Ever. And I'm fairly certain that none of the other people who leaned on you this week – the Captain, obviously, but also Ed and the boys, Marie…" I trail off. I can see that he isn't ready to accept my assertion. Still, I can't help but add, "You don't need it, you know. You have emotions of your own."

"Perhaps…."

But I cut him off. "I shouldn't have stopped you."

"Zoe?"

I set my mug back on the nightstand and fiddle with my ring for a moment. Then I hold up my hand, showing him. "When you gave this to me, you asked me to take a leap of faith with you, and I did – I _am_. But when you wanted to insert that chip, I broke faith with you, Data. I didn't stop you because I was afraid Lore had boobytrapped the chip. I knew you had already eliminated anything he'd done. I stopped you because I was afraid you wouldn't be _you_ anymore. That whatever that chip did, it would cause you to realize that I wasn't a good match for you, after all, or that you didn't love me, or that-." I trail off, take a breath, start again. "Anyway, I was wrong. Watching everyone processing their grief this week, dealing with my own, and trying to be strong for Michel and Remy, I realized that there is nothing on that chip that can touch what we have."

"Zoe?"

"I comm'd Geordi while you were in the shower, earlier. I asked him to come for a visit the week after next. I don't have classes; it's our October Recess, and the seminar you're teaching isn't until December, so you'll have six weeks without any duties to perform… "

"… which should be ample time to accommodate myself to the chip."

"Yes."

"Are you certain, Zoe?"

"I'm certain I love you. I'm certain I'm going to marry you. I still don't think you _need_ it, but I'm not the one living inside your head…"

"This will be… just another etude," he tells me.

"No. It'll be another leap of faith."

He captures my left hand and teases my engagement ring with his thumb. "You are part of me, Zoe. I am devoted to you, and I love you."

"I love you, too," I tell him. "So, so much."

"May I ask you something now?" I nod, and he continues, "You and Captain Picard had many quiet conversations. May I know what you discussed?"

"Lots of things," I say. "But mostly they revolved around two things: faith and family." I drain my mug and set it aside. "I hadn't realized Captain Picard was a practicing Catholic. I asked him about that, and he said there were no atheists on starships, and we went on from there." I pause and turn my hand in his. "He said that everyone has faith in something, even if they can't necessarily define it. Even you."

"I see."

"We've never really discussed religion or faith or spirituality in any great detail. You know I go to mass sometimes – Episcopal mass – but you haven't ever asked me why, or what it means, and I've just assumed that if you had any beliefs of that kind you'd tell me. It didn't… I should have known to ask you. I ask you about everything else."

"It is a discussion we should have before we commit to a wedding venue," Data says, "but it is late, and it has been a long week for both of us."

"But soon? We'll discuss it soon?"

"As soon as you wish… after tonight."

I laugh. "As you wish, Basil, darling." But my mood turns serious again. "I heard what Beverly said to you as we were leaving. You're special to him, you know. You and Beverly and Geordi and everyone from the _Enterprise_ who were at the funeral… you're more than just Captain Picard's crew. You're his family. And _you_ , Data, I 'm pretty sure he sees you as the son he never had."

I see his eyebrows lift and fall, his way of expressing dubiousness. He opens his mouth to contradict me, but I stop him with a finger to his lips. "I got closer to him when we started dating, and that relationship has evolved over the past few years, but I was always just outside the curtain. I think… I think I've been invited inside."

Data takes a few seconds to consider – a lengthy time for him – and then smiles the smile that is still – always – just for me. "I believe you are correct. Are you ready for me to turn out the light?"

I smile back at him and pull my (his) shirt over my head. "Now I am."

In the darkness of our bedroom, Data and I come together for tender lovemaking, the kind that gives him pleasant dreams, and sends me into blissful sleep. As I'm drifting off, I feel him twisting a section of my hair between his fingers. "Why did the captain mention you being twenty-five?"

I muffle my laughter against his chest. "The night of the funeral, when we were playing _Tög,_ he told me not to call him sir while we were staying in his house. I asked what else I should call him, and he suggested I use his name. I told him I would when I was thirty."

"Ah! And he was offering a compromise."

"Something like that," I yawned. "Love you, Data. Need to sleep."

"I love you, too."

~ _Fin ~_

* * *

 **NOTES:** Most of my notes are in previous chapters. I've always maintained that Data never needed that chip, that he just needed a safe place to explore android emotions, and I'll explore that more when the main timeline catches up. For now, thank you for reading, and take a moment to tell your friends and family that you love them.


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